Anthony Janthony Crowley
by Ixi
Summary: Just a bit of fluff where Crowley panics when choosing his middle name. But at least nobody will know, right? When Aziraphale asks they make a game of the angel trying to guess it - one guess a day.


**1988, Tokio**

"Mmm. Is it Jörmungandr? That's the world serpent in the norse mythology." asked Aziraphale. He was having dinner with Crowley in an excellent sushi restaurant. That was always a nicely spent time though there were some disadvantages taking Crowley to a _running sushi_.

_I wish I'd thought of that_. The the demon sighed internally. "Nope." He answered with a loud popping sound and focused on the next coming sushi portion.

Aziraphale watched as his friend grabbed yet another plate with a speed of a snake - _yes, some disadvantages_ \- he thought fondly.

* * *

**1720, London, Heaven & Hell's shared office building, Crowley's office**

"Crowley." said f'Rme, a lesser demon, as he entered without knocking (Hell always comes unannounced).

"Mmm?" Crowley looked up from his work (well, not so much work as a book that Aziraphale lent him. That Defoe guy was quite an interesting fellow).

"I need your signature on the form 2804-T, as specified in the memo you've got." barked f'Rme.

"Erm. Right." said Crowley and did his best not to glance at the big pile of unread memos. The Hell was hesitant at first to imitate humans and be more office-like but quickly decided that bureaucracy was an _especially_ evil and embraced it fully.

Crowley quickly signed his true name and waited for f'Rme to leave.

He didn't. Just stared at Crowley, greatly unimpressed. "And your full chosen human name underneath."

"What?"

"That's 2804-T is about. To tie your real name with your human name. So your full human name. Here. Now." he growled impatiently and showed more teeth than it should be possible to have - his mouth was probably bigger on the inside.

"Yes, yes, of course." said Crowley as he started to trace the 'Anthony'. _Panic. Panic. PANIC!_ He never got to think up what the 'J.' meant, he only chose because it looked snake-like.

Oh Satan, what are the names starting with 'J'? _Any_ name starting with 'J'. Dear Lucifer, any _word_ starting with 'J'! Oh no! It's coming! Here, what do I write?! WHAT DO I WRITE?!

He stared at what he _did_ write.

f'Rme stared as well.

Finally f'Rme said: "Anthony _Janthony_ Crowley?"

"Ummmm. Yes. Janthony. Very popular these days. A new book just came out, Robinson Janthony Crusoe about this lad who-"

"Yes, yes." f'Rme waved with his hand in dismissal, took his form and left.

Crowley rested his forehead on his desk.

His only comfort that nobody will know unless he _decides_ to _tell_ them.

* * *

**1720 later that day, London, a small pub near Heaven & Hell's shared office building**

If there was an advantage to sharing the same office building with the other side of the war - beside keeping your enemy close so that you could keep an eye on them - it was this: let's say you are not that fond of your colleagues, let's also say that although you _don't have to_ eat you actually _like_ to do so, and finally let's say that there is someone from the other side of the war that feels the same way.

That's right. An angel and a demon usually spent their lunch breaks together.

"So, I've heard that all the demons in the building had to choose a human name." said Aziraphale and eyed his portion of lamb. (Yes, even though the Hell and Heaven were in the war, they **did **share an office building. And gossip is universal and interracial.)

"Mmm." Crowley chose not to elaborate.

"So what did you decide the 'J' stands for?" asked the angel curiously.

"You would never guess." muttered Crowley and part of him wished for the Armageddon so he wouldn't have to admit that he _may_ have panicked.

"Well, surely not _never_." said the angel self-confidently.

Crowley perked up. "How about a wager then? One guess a day. If you don't guess it in the next hundred years… the next time someone needs to perform a curse and a blessing in Edinburgh," he shuddered, "_you_ will go. If you guess it, _I_ will go."

"Agreed. Is it James?"

"Nope."

* * *

**1746**

"Jesus?"

"What? NO!"

* * *

**1752**

"Jessabelle?"

"Isn't that a girl's name? No."

* * *

**1790, France, Bastille**

"Aziraphale, what are you doing in a prison?"

"Uhm… Jacques?"

"No and answer my question!"

* * *

**1803**

"I think that I am going to take a nap."

"Nap?"

"Nap."

"Like a week-long nap?"

"Like a century-long nap. But wake me in 1820 for me to win the bet."

"Sure, but first I will have a guess for every day we didn't see each other."

"No objection from me."

"Very well. Jørgen?"

"Nope."

* * *

**1820**

"All right. You win. I'll go to the Edinburgh next time. So what is it?"

"How about another hundred years?"

"Alright. Jalapeno?"

"Yes. You got it, I am Anthony Jalapeno Crowley."

"Truly?"

"No."

* * *

**1920**

"Another Edinburgh for you. Again?"

"YES!"

"…"

"Juglandaceous?"

"Really? Nope."

* * *

**1943, an abandoned Church**

"What were you thinking?! If I didn't manage to come in time they would-" his angelic friend was such an idiot! Plotting against Nazis was one thing - Crowley knew for a fact that Aziraphale was often talking these days with Alan Turing giving him subtle clues to crack Enigma. _That_ was a clever thing to do. But to meet Nazis in an abandoned church alone? If Crowley's spies didn't find out...

"But you did, thank you." smiled the angel at him.

"My soles are almost burned through." grumbled the demon.

"What?"

"I had to hop to the aisle on the sacred ground. Hot as hell. Well. Heaven." Crowley complained.

"...you know you have wings, right?" said Aziraphale with the fond disbelieving look he kept giving Crowley for almost six thousand years.

Crowley stared.

Aziraphale stared.

"Uhm, yes. But… who knows it the feathers wouldn't catch on fire and if it would fit and… I totally thought of that." Crowley tried to salvage the situation.

"Of course." Aziraphale agreed smiling. "What about Jasbeer? It's an indian name meaning 'a victorious hero'."

"Uhm." Crowley swallowed and looked away. "No. And you're welcome."

* * *

**1963, London, a small cinema theatre**

Aziraphale avidly watched the movie his friend took him to, it was called 'From Russia with Love' and about a secret agent fighting for the Queen. "I've already tried James, right?" he whispered.

Crowley sighed as he watched the amazing agent with his amazing car (though not as much as his Bentley) and wished he thought of and chose James. "Yes, that was your first attempt."

"Thought so. But it would suit you, I think."

"Yeah."

"Jaromir?"

"Nope."

* * *

**The End of the World, the airfield**

Aziraphale held out his hand. "Nice knowing you," he said.

Crowley took it.

"I have to know. What is your middle name?"

"Oh… uh..."

"Yes?"

"Janthony."

"What?"

"It's Janthony, all right? This demon presented me with a form and I panicked."

Aziraphale started hysterically laughing. "I spent three centuries trying to guess _Janthony_ ?"

Crowley grinned.

* * *

**After the (unsuccesful) Apocalypse, London, The Ritz**

"To the world, Janthony." said Aziraphale fondly.

"To the world, and shut up." smiled Crowley.


End file.
